I was going to make this week’s blog
about Peter Beardsley and the accusations of bullying and racism he faces,
discussing also the toxic culture of racist abuse prevalent in the Chelsea
academy when under the stewardship of the vile Graham Rix and Gwynn Williams,
not to mention the unfolding horrors from the Barry Bennell trial. However, I think it important to allow that
whole sordid situation to come to a conclusion, so I’ve decided to concentrate
on a far more pressing matter.
Why is Rafa Benitez so fat? Could it
be he’s eating the wrong things, or that he doesn’t get enough exercise, even an
undiagnosed medical issue or an unfortunate combination of all three? It might
just be carrying his enormous wages in a money belt round his waist that gives
him the Hitchcockian profile. Whatever the case, he’s desperately overweight
and doesn’t look well at all. His florid crimson cheeks are journeying towards
a dangerous puce hue at an alarming rate. Perhaps he’s following Steve Bruce’s
example and indulging in a bit of comfort eating to make up for professional
frustrations and disappointments; though I’d hope it’s chorizo and rioja for
Rafa rather than the Melton Mowbray pork pies and cans of John Smith that
Brewse plumps (geddit?) for. You would wonder, in all seriousness, how a bloke
in such bad physical shape could effectively manage and train a top flight
football team, battling for their very survival among the elite. Well, as we
saw again last weekend with the dire second half showing in the underwhelming
1-1 draw with bottom of the table Swansea that did precisely nothing to
alleviate relegation fears, the truth of the matter is that Benitez isn’t doing
much of a job at all.
When I see Benitez and his large pot belly that seems to
impede him from walking normally, meaning he proceeds at a brisk and slightly
pompous waddle, like Donald Duck’s rich cousin Gladstone, it makes me wonder
exactly why it is that Newcastle United fans call Mike Ashley a fat bastard,
but never mention the manager’s obesity. Presumably because they hate one and
love the other, preferring to see him as endearingly chubby rather than
paunchy; it is a bit hypocritical though, isn’t it? I suppose Benitez’s heft is concentrated in
one particular area, while Ashley is generally big all over, though he has lost
quite a bit of timber since the publication of those garish topless snaps with
some of his servile Sports Direct
drones, while out on a staff jolly, about 3 years back. I believe those photos, allegedly taken while
the roundly despised, moneyed contrarian was essaying a karaoke version of Leave Your Hat On, were in a Chinese
restaurant. With all the fats, sugar and additives in Cantonese cookery, a
middle-aged bloke with Ashley’s build ought to be giving ersatz Oriental food a
swerve and look for a healthier option as eating out can play havoc with your
weight.
Just look at that night Ashley nearly
gained 250 million pounds, having a curry in the Paradise Indian Restaurant in
Hampstead, with the discredited straw woman Amanda Staveley and the loathsome,
lubricious Richard Desmond. That night
last November is presumably the closest Newcastle United came to changing
ownership. However, the intervening period of paralysis that began with Staveley’s
rejected offer and ended with Sky Sports
News, seemingly Ashley’s tame media poodles and on-screen version of the Volkischer Beobachter, announcing the
deal was dead more than 7 weeks later, means we’ve got nowhere slowly. And of course now the meanies are all out of
the bottle, with the contemptible Dennis Wise popping his head out of the sewer
to fawningly defend Ashley and pour further scorn, not that it’s needed, on the
PCP bid that Staveley unconvincingly fronted.
Ever since I first criticised
Benitez’s performance as manager, I’ve been the target for boos, jeers and
catcalls on social media; not only by the KrissChrisChris NE32 NE33 & NE34
superfan conglomerate, but by seemingly rational people, whose faith in Benitez
has blinded them to the possibility that he may well be coasting downhill towards
the end of his career. It could be overstating things to say he’s either the
Emperor’s New Clothes or a busted flush, but the sands of time and law of
diminishing returns are both against him. I think many people view Benitez not
so much as a football club manager, but as an icon; a figure of hope in a
struggle for justice and freedom from the tyranny of the Sports Direct dictatorship. In that sense I agree with them. The
one problem I can see with that scenario is that Amanda Staveley and PCP are
not, and never will be, the Bolshevik stormy petrels of revolution awaiting
Vladimir Illych Benitez’s arrival at the Finland Station. And here’s why.
From the very outset of this whole
catastrophic charade, Staveley has been as reluctant to proffer information as
Ashley has ever since his disastrous stewardship commenced in 2007. In her own
way, she has been as elusive and shady as the current owner. We’ve never been
told who is behind the bid and where the money was coming from. It seems
incredible that such crucial information was kept out of the public domain. Did
she and her backers ever consider the fact they may need to build bridges with
the support? Being transparent and communicative would be a great start on that
road to recovery.
As soon as I asked the question about
where the money came from, well before Christmas, I was again subject to a
torrent of social media obloquy; now I was happy to ignore the less cerebral of
those losing their shit, but I was truly disappointed in the lack of precision
in the thinking of those adopting a position diametrically opposed to my own
who really should know better. Yet again, it seemed as if their passionate
hatred of anything and everything to do with Mike Ashley meant they were prepared
to lend their unquestioning support to anyone else who showed even a vague
interest in taking the club on. That’s a crazy, dangerous attitude to have;
even Ashley said he was only prepared to sell to someone he believed could take
the club forward. Yes I know Ashley is a liar and his words are less than
worthless, but the point remains; Newcastle United is too big, too historic and
too important a sporting and cultural institution to be flogged to a collection
of faceless plutocrats, simply because they’ve coughed up the necessary
readies. I wanted clarity and we all deserved it, whether people knew they did
or not.
It is only since the breakdown of the
bid that we have learned who were some, though not all, of the silent partners
stumping up cash for Staveley’s bid. The elusive Reuben family, who make the
Barclay Twins seem like the Chuckle Brothers, a fabulously wealthy, property
owning dynasty with interests in the north east, including a planned retail and
leisure development of the old Pilgrim Street nick, were in there from the
start. A youthful scion Jamie is supposedly a “big football fan” and persuaded
his publicity shy father and uncles to stump up a load of chump change in the
hope of buying into the club. I leave it you to decide whether this was a
potentially philanthropic investment or not. Now the bid is dead in the water,
they’ve withdrawn to their preferred place in the long grass, meaning Staveley
has lost a key backer and is now, apparently, having to decide whether to fling
a third of her estimated personal wealth at the club or leave the stage a
discredited charlatan.
We shall, of course, see how this
plays out over the next few months. Regardless of the outcome of this bid, talk
of a takeover or buy out simply won’t go away. It will be an unhelpful
distraction to the on-field battles to come as the reality of the enormous
shadow cast over the club by this whole arrhythmic danse macabre is that Newcastle United, with an away game against
Man City to endure this weekend, are three points above the drop zone. During
the current transfer window there has unsurprisingly been zero activity at the
club, despite the protracted and unconvincing alleged pursuit of Chelsea’s
fringe winger Kenedy on loan, meaning we have a poor squad, further undermined
by the spiteful sniping and lack of support to them by their manager, who has
skilfully absolved himself of any responsibility for the team’s current plight.
Avoiding the drop is, and was always going to be, a tough ask, but if Benitez
is half the manager he thinks he is and the majority of the support believe he
is, then it is time he showed that by preparing the team properly, to enable
them to win games because, at the end of the day, it’s the results and fate of
the team, not who owns the club, manages the club or even plays for the club,
that really matters.
Ashley OUT!
P.S. I lost 8 lb last week; only another 62 lb to go
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